


3 Names Skye Has Called Coulson (other than Coulson)

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AC - Freeform, F/M, Names matter, Sexy Times, Skye in charge, skoulsonfest2k14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skoulsonfest2k14 Day 5 prompt "AC." </p>
<p>AC, Phil, and Phillip -- moments in Skye/Coulson's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3 Names Skye Has Called Coulson (other than Coulson)

“Hey, AC,” Skye greets him as she steps into his office.

“I thought you were going to start calling me Coulson. Or...Agent Coulson?” He’s almost certain that’s what they agreed on yesterday in the back of the SUV. (But asking for professional behavior while  _sliding on in_ to the back of a dark SUV with a subordinate was probably a mistake.) 

“You only asked me not to call you Phil.” She sounds vaguely hurt by that, and his guilt about it annoys him. “Are you asking me not to call you AC?”

She would respect it if he did. He knows that. He can tell that about her — names are important to Skye.

_Yes, I am_ , he coaches himself. _Yes, I am_.

That is not what comes out.

“No.”

He cringes at his own stupidity, even more at the fact that Skye looks vaguely amused.

“So you don’t mind me calling you AC?”

Coulson closes his eyes, sighs in defeat that isn’t exactly defeat.

He sort of likes it.

It’s unprofessional, but so is she. In a good way. (He wasn’t aware, before they brought him back from the dead, that there was a good way to be unprofessional.)

“No,” he answers again, like the answer is being painfully extracted.

Skye smiles triumphantly and kicks back on his couch like she owns the place.

“So when do I get to call you Phil, then?”

“Don’t push it,” he replies, trying to keep his face straight. (He fails.)

Skye’s smirk says that she has every intention of pushing it.

He sort of likes it.

 

—

 

“Coulson —”

“ _Phil_ ,” he corrects her, his voice only shaking slightly.

“So _this_ is what I had to do to get to call you Phil? You should have told me. I would have done it sooner.”

She grins at him, and he tries to summon an explanation, or even just a smirk, but only manages to gasp when her fingers make a particularly lovely swirl around the head of his cock.

“I thought we needed distance,” he manages. He thinks that if he had let her call him Phil before now, this would have happened much sooner. Which doesn’t actually sound like a bad thing.

“I don’t like distance,” she answers, and the hand moving over him is joined by a soft kiss against his belly.

“Neither do I.”

She laughs at that, kisses him again towards the left side of his chest.

“ _Skye_ ,” he breathes her name in and out and holds her eyes as she works her hand over him. “Kiss me.”

“Oh.” She pulls her hand away, and he groans in disappointment. “We skipped that step, didn’t we?”

Coulson manages to nod — honestly, he’s still unsure about the series of events that connected Skye checking on his healing shoulder to Skye giving him a hand job, but he’s not prepared to complain, either.

And then Skye is over him, her lips against his in a series of hot, open mouthed kisses that feel more familiar than a first kiss probably should.

He wishes more than anything that he could wrap his arms around her, pull her body against his, but all he can manage is to run his left hand down her back as his right is immobilized between them.

Skye rolls onto his left side, showing more care for his injury that he has at the moment, and proceeds to kiss him deeply as her hand slides back under the elastic waist of his sweats.

“Oh, God,” he groans against her lips. She pauses for long enough to lick her hand, and then returns to her task.

The pressure in his lower stomach builds, and his entire body feels hypersensitive, on edge.

“I’m so close.”

“Good,” Skye answers, captures his lips in another kiss..

“What about you?”

She pauses, pulls back to meet his eyes and give him an amused smile that is accompanied by a firm squeeze.

“You’re in no condition to worry about me, Phil. When you’re healed, we’ll talk.”

“Yes,” he answers, although he’s not sure if it’s about the thought of _more_ _later_ , or if it’s because Skye’s hand moves faster, pulling him towards — what he realizes now — is a long overdue climax.

He’s nearly silent as he comes, mouth open and breath harsh, accompanied only by a strangled groan that doesn’t quite make it past his lips.

She’s gentle with him as he catches his breath, keeping her hand against him almost protectively and kissing him softly in between his lungfuls of air.

“So,” she starts, grinning at him mischieviously as she curls against his good side, “what do I have to do to call you _Phillip_?”

A startled laugh forces its way out of his mouth, and Skye returns it with a knowing raise of her eyebrows.

 

—

 

She’s been moving on top of him for over an hour, has already had to stop long enough for a few applications of extra lube. Her whole body is covered with sweat, and the lithe, supple, shiny skin provides an amazing visual. It feels amazing, too, as his hands slip easily from her belly to her breasts and down again.

He’s already come once today, and even though he was able to get it up again, he doesn’t imagine he’ll have another orgasm.

Which does not, in any way, reduce the experience of Skye riding him — hard, but slowly, coming around him and calling his name and repeating the cycle until she’s hoarse. He actually loves it when it’s unhurried like this, like they could spend the rest of the day moving together, like he’s concerned only with being there for her and not his own endgame.

“Phillip,” she whispers his name as she circles her hips against his.

“Yes,” he answers, approving of her use of his full given name. He likes the sound of it at times like this — during long, passionate afternoons that are about the slip and slide of skin, about being together, about sweat and hands and mouths.

Skye thrusts down against him, hard, and he groans.

Turns out he might be _a little_ concerned about the endgame for himself.

She grins at him, a touch of evil slipping in, and then bears down, squeezing tightly around him until his vision darkens.

“ _Christ_ ,” he groans. “Skye.” His mouth falls open and his hips rise up against hers almost against his will.

She changes her movements then, from the rocking motions that are most effective for her to raising and lowering herself on him. The slow plunge down, squeeze, slow drag up is mind-blowing, and then she speeds up. Almost instantly, he revises his belief that he’s probably not going to come again.

“I’m —”

Which is as far as he gets in a warning before he grabs onto her hips and loses himself inside of her.

He nearly blacks out from the intensity, is only vaguely aware of the way Skye keeps moving against him, stretching out his pleasure.

When he catches his breath, he finds Skye curled against him, placing kisses against the side of his neck.

“You’re pretty impressive, AC,” she mumbles into his skin, and he breathes out a not-quite laugh.

“That’s _you_ ,” he answers, tilting his head so that their lips meet.

“So you don't mind if I call you Phillip sometimes? Because today felt like a Phillip day.”

He kisses her, deep wet slide of lips and tongues that says their lazy, passionate afternoon in bed isn't over.

“I'll like anything you call me,” he promises.


End file.
